About Maximalism
There is such a disease - “Maximalism”. They suffer acne, due to puberty, adolescents. Old decrepit old men and all other people. Maximalism is when it seems that life and all decisions in life can be of only two colors: “Bad when children are beaten, I will never beat children” or “It's good when there is money, and when children are beaten - bad”.
Come up to you on the street and ask: "Will you hit a child?". And you, feeling a bit holy, with full confidence in your voice, say: "No, that you are!". What am I? And if I say that you will need to hit the child with the rubber of your heel, right in the nose, knowing that the still weak bones will collapse, and children's blood will remain on your leg. Most likely, you will try not to communicate with me anymore. You're sick, my friend, sick.
You just stood on the street and listened to my stupid questions, and now you're in the basement. You have blood all over your body, blood on your skin, and painful ripples before your eyes. And here she is your opportunity to be holy, standing in front of you and crying, turning a child’s head, but not running away, because you already tried. This is a little girl, all in sunny freckles. And you already lift a leg for blow, strong, knowing that she will live, as if she will live, but before that she will be very painful. This is not about you?
And along the wall are your small parts: friends, parents, darling. And it so happened that the friends are real and the only, the best in the world. Loved one is the closest, even closer to himself. And parents cry, you just love them very, very much and they love you too. And this strange man had already fired once, when you said, "No." And now he turned the gun on your mother, looks at you, waits. And without having said anything, feeling on the verge of insanity, lift your leg and strike with all your might, the main thing is that the pistol no longer shoots.
')
You can hear the sound of broken bones, torn skin, and only now do you think that this little life might not be able to remember your next day either.
Everything will strike, a beggar and a priest, an esthete and a pacifist. Just because we are human.
And the crappy thing is that life is all that. Now I understand that you can break even this, your own prohibition, even under such circumstances. You have the opportunity to remember that there is no universal answer, even to the most clear question.
Should I pity the rich man? May be. Should I beat the flawed? Everything. can. be!
Come up to you on the street and ask: "Will you hit a child?". And you, feeling a bit holy, with full confidence in your voice, say: "No, that you are!". What am I? And if I say that you will need to hit the child with the rubber of your heel, right in the nose, knowing that the still weak bones will collapse, and children's blood will remain on your leg. Most likely, you will try not to communicate with me anymore. You're sick, my friend, sick.
You just stood on the street and listened to my stupid questions, and now you're in the basement. You have blood all over your body, blood on your skin, and painful ripples before your eyes. And here she is your opportunity to be holy, standing in front of you and crying, turning a child’s head, but not running away, because you already tried. This is a little girl, all in sunny freckles. And you already lift a leg for blow, strong, knowing that she will live, as if she will live, but before that she will be very painful. This is not about you?
And along the wall are your small parts: friends, parents, darling. And it so happened that the friends are real and the only, the best in the world. Loved one is the closest, even closer to himself. And parents cry, you just love them very, very much and they love you too. And this strange man had already fired once, when you said, "No." And now he turned the gun on your mother, looks at you, waits. And without having said anything, feeling on the verge of insanity, lift your leg and strike with all your might, the main thing is that the pistol no longer shoots.
')
You can hear the sound of broken bones, torn skin, and only now do you think that this little life might not be able to remember your next day either.
Everything will strike, a beggar and a priest, an esthete and a pacifist. Just because we are human.
And the crappy thing is that life is all that. Now I understand that you can break even this, your own prohibition, even under such circumstances. You have the opportunity to remember that there is no universal answer, even to the most clear question.
Should I pity the rich man? May be. Should I beat the flawed? Everything. can. be!
Source: https://habr.com/ru/post/25783/
All Articles